


I Won't Be Your Martyr

by Sylv



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-03
Updated: 2012-12-03
Packaged: 2017-11-20 05:12:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/581646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylv/pseuds/Sylv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because it always goes like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Won't Be Your Martyr

Because it goes like this:  
  
Kairi lays her head in Roxas’ lap while her legs hang over the arm of the couch and he runs his fingers through her auburn hair absentmindedly. She kicks her booted feet and looks up into his face where he is staring off into space, thinking.   
  
“You knew what you were getting into when you started this,” she says, and he wants to glare at her for it, every time, except he knows that she’s right.  
  
“I’m sorry,” she tells him afterwards, and he shakes his head at her, because she’s always doing that—it’s not her fault and it never was and she shouldn’t be apologizing for things that she has no control over, even when it makes him feel better, even when he takes comfort in her words—  
  
“You can’t do anything,” he replies when she is on her way out, and she will turn around to give him a hug, because that is what she does.  
  
  
Sometimes it happens before, but most of the time it happens after, this:  
  
Axel stumbles in their door at four in the morning, and he smells like sweat and beer and sex and Roxas is always up waiting for him with dark circles under his eyes and his hair always tousled because his hands were there again, and again, and again.  
  
He wants to watch his boyfriend drop to the floor and throw up and lay in it for the night, just so he knows what it’s like, but he looks at him and his heart swells even when it really shouldn’t and he helps him into the bathroom where he holds his ridiculously long hair back from his face and waits until morning.  
  
He’s always angry and he always asks that question, but most of the time Axel is too out of it to answer; sometimes he gets lucky and he hears him and he’ll get angry like he does whenever he’s drunk.  
  
“Exclusive is only a word in your vocabulary,” he’ll slur, and then stumble sideways into the wall, dragging Roxas with him, and if the blonde is feeling especially vindictive, he’ll hope that he smashes his head against something hard.  
  
  
When those aren’t happening, though, it goes like this:  
  
They’ll both be shouting, and it will be loud and angry and nothing new, and then, somehow, Axel will end up on top of him and there will be a lot of tongue and hands everywhere and his shirt will end up on the floor, shortly followed by Axel’s pants, and if he’s thinking coherently he will wonder: how the hell did this happen?  
  
Afterwards they will be sweaty and tired and just lying there when Roxas will kick Axel in the shin and hiss, “Asshole,”  
  
And Axel will laugh; sometimes he will make a joke and sometimes he will just kiss the boy again, but he always laughs.  
  
Roxas hates how he knows that that is how it’s going to go.


End file.
